


Turn To Stone

by OkyDokyPoky



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, Archer!Stiles, Archery, Asshole Kate, Awkwardness, BAMF!Stiles, Betrayal, Blood and Injury, Commander!Kate, Derek's Life Is Hard, Duchess!Allison, Injury Recovery, King!Peter, M/M, Major Character Injury, Minor Character Death, Minor Character(s), POV Alternating, POV Derek, POV Stiles, Post Hale Fire, Slow Build Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Slow Burn, Stilinski Family Feels, The Hale Family, The Hale Fire, War Era, Work In Progress, past Allison Argent/Derek Hale, slave!Derek
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-10
Updated: 2015-05-09
Packaged: 2018-02-04 04:44:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1765909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OkyDokyPoky/pseuds/OkyDokyPoky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>People were dying all around him, screams of agony and triumph filled the early autumn air. Stiles crouched down and pulled another arrow from his quiver, he picked a target and within seconds, the poor bastard fell to the ground with an arrow lodged between his eyes.</p><p>Or the Medieval!AU where Stiles is an archer and Derek is the slave he ends up with.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Turn To Stone

**Author's Note:**

> The chapter (and work) title is taken from this song: Ingrid Michaelson - Turn To Stone
> 
>  _Let's take a better look_  
>  _beyond a story book_  
>  _And learn our souls are all we own_  
>  _before we turn to stone_  
>   
> 
> Ingrid Michaelson - Turn To Stone

People were dying all around him, screams of agony and triumph filled the early autumn air. Stiles crouched down and pulled another arrow from his quiver, he picked a target and within seconds, the poor bastard fell to the ground with an arrow lodged between his eyes.

Stiles let out the breath he was holding, causing a small cloud of white smoke to rise from his cold lips. He got up and ran towards another group of soldiers who were fighting. The enemies were definitely getting the upper hand. So while running he fired arrow after arrow from his bow and he hit his targets every time with excellent precision.  His fellow soldiers thanked him and he gave a small smile and a quick nod in return.

The battlefield was in utter chaos, the piercing sound of steel clashing against steel could be heard all around the forest. For some it was disorientating, but not for Stiles. He used the sounds around him like some sort of mantra. It calmed him and he used the sounds of the forest as an advantage. He grew up in a forest like this; tall, thick trees everywhere you looked. Stiles sometimes liked to imagine that from above it would look like a giant sea of green. He would swim in it for hours and hours, tickled by the leaves.

But not this day, because this day he needed to focus on the ongoing battle between Duchess Alison Chasseur D’Argent (although most people knew that it was really her grandfather, Gerard Christopher D’Argent, who pulled the strings) and King Peter Theodore Hale. In Stiles’ opinion, they were both wrong in starting this war, but who was he to judge the rich and mighty rulers of the kingdom. There was another reason why Stiles did not like this war, because his commander was none other than Catherine Victoria D’Argent, the Duchess’ aunt. The woman was like a tornado; only leaving destruction and death in its path, and destroying everything that tried to stop it. Kate was bossy, always demanding more and more from her soldiers, that’s why most the men called her the ‘Blonde Bitch’. 

Shouts coming from somewhere deeper in the forest dragged Stiles from his thoughts, he looked around but no one seemed to notice (or care) that someone was obviously being attacked. They were probably too busy fighting others so they could boast about their endeavours when they returned to their separate homes this Christmas.

Stiles shook his head in disappointment before running towards the shouts. They were getting louder and louder with every step he took. Not long after he found himself at the edge of a small clearing, the last rays of sunlight shone down on the three men in the middle of the clearing, they were obviously ready to jump each other’s bones. After a closer look, Stiles noticed something was off about the three men. They all had the enemies’ emblem or colour on their armour. Two of the three men wore the normal battle gear, but what was off was that the remaining one did not. He wore a different set of armour, to Stiles it almost looked like some kind of barbarian armor. The man’s upper body was bare, the armour only covered him from the waist down and other than that he only wore a pair of vambraces. He was tall, built like a brick house and had long, black hair that almost touched his broad shoulders (as far as Stiles could see). Stiles also noticed the triskele tattoo on the back of the dark-haired man because the man was currently faced away from him. If the man would’ve had blonde hair, Stiles would have thought the guy was a son of Zeus.

“We’re gonna kill ya, ya stupid slave! Ya own _uncle_ didn’t even want ya! Ha!” One of the fully armoured men shouted. He was almost as big as the slave, but definitely not as well-built.

“Yeah, you don’t deserve to fight beside us. You probably already planned to escape anyway!” Said the other fully armoured soldier. He had a very Irish accent, a small frame and bright red hair that peeked out from under his helmet. Stiles let out a silent laugh when he realised that the man looked like a leprechaun from one of the stories his mother used to read to him when he was a little boy. He quickly shook that thought from his mind because he did _not_ want to have a panic attack in the middle of the woods, all the while thinking about his mother and making it even worse.

Nope. Not going to happen.

The dark-haired slave did not respond to the other two. They must have taken that as a sign to attack him because the next minute the three men were fighting for their lives.  Stiles did not intervene, if they took out the slave his forces had one less to kill. Stiles turned around and started to walk back the way he came, but he didn’t get very far because after a few seconds he heard a shout of pain coming from the clearing. When he looked over his shoulder he saw that the two men had pinned down the slave, and that he was severely bleeding from his upper body. It did not look good for the slave.

Stiles looked back at his fighting comrades and for a split seconds he thought about just leaving the slave to die, but he couldn’t. The man was obviously wounded and he couldn’t let them kill him. Stiles would never forgive himself. Every man deserves to live, it doesn’t matter what king you fight for. His father taught him that, and he lived by that code.

“Dammit Stiles, why do you always have to be the good guy?” He silently muttered to himself while he turned back around to once again face the clearing and the three men.

He crouched down, took an arrow from his quiver and placed it on the nock of his bow. After a few steadying breaths Stiles raised his bow and took aim. One of the fully armoured men had his battle-axe raised above the slave’s head like he was about to chop it off. Stiles took a deep breath and held it. After a second he released the string of his bow and the arrow flew through the air, hitting the man right in the middle of his chest, through the heart. The man fell to his knees with a shout of pain and dropped the axe he was holding.

The red-haired man’s eyes widened and he desperately looked around the small clearing. He was probably trying to find who had just shot his fellow soldier.

“Are your friends here, huh?!” He shouted to the slave, and then into the forest: “Come out! Fight me like a real man!”

Stiles was not a fool, he knew he was no good with a sword, so he silently sneaked around the clearing. Now the man’s back was turned to Stiles. Stiles stood up with - surprisingly - a lot of grace, and walked into the clearing. He put another arrow on the nock of his bow and pulled back the string. The slave spotted him and his eyes widened slightly with a look of surprise on his face. Like he didn’t expect anyone to help him. The thought made Stiles feel sad, though he couldn’t let it linger because there were more important matters at hand, like the leprec- _soldier_ who was now just a few feet away from him.

The red-haired man must’ve noticed that the slave’s attention was not on him, but behind him, because he started to turn around, but Stiles quickly put the arrow against the back of the guy’s skull. The man froze immediately. _Good_ , Stiles thought.

“If I were you, I would drop that sword you got there.” Stiles said in a calm voice. Adrenaline was running through his veins but he pushed the nerves to the back of his mind and focused on the task at hand.

“What do you think you’re doing?! Helping this _slave_?! Who do you think you are?!” The red-haired man all but screamed back at Stiles.

“I’ll give you a choice, either you walk away now, and don’t look back, or I’ll put this arrow through your sku-“ Stiles was cut off when the smaller man turned around and unsheathed his sword in one quick movement. He tried to take a swing at Stiles, but he didn’t get the chance. An arrow was already lodged in his neck, he was gurgling blood and desperately grabbing at his neck, but to no avail. He was dead within seconds.

Stiles let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He tried to calm himself while he pulled the arrow’s from the two dead soldiers. Movement in his peripheral vision made him freeze and in a quick motion he had the arrow pointed at the slave with the string of his bow drawn back, ready to fire if something was about to go down. The slave had gotten up from where he had fallen to the ground, and he was now standing in the middle of the clearing.

They stared at each other for a few seconds before the slave spoke. “I have no intentions to harm you. Please, spare me. You saved my life.” The slave had a very deep, raspy voice. Like he hadn’t said anything in a long time. Stiles found himself imagining how his name would sound, coming from the slave’s lips, and how the slave’s  moans would fill a room, echoing slightly and only turning Stiles on more when the man slowly kissed and nibbled along his nec-.

 _No_.

Stiles shook his head and tried to regain his focus. He didn’t even know this man, why was he thinking about the slave like that? That wasn’t normal. Well, not that Stiles had ever felt normal or anything. But this was definitely out of the ordinary. Also: he did not want to have to explain to the slave why he was getting hard. Stiles hoped he would never have that conversation. Ever.

“How can I trust you, when you wear the enemies’ armour?” Stiles asked the man with a determined expression. His face giving away nothing but a cold stare.

 “I’ll prove myself to you.” The slave answered. His face was covered in blood and mud and he looked lost and defeated. But most of all, the slave looked _betrayed_. Like something (or someone) important was taken away from him and he didn’t know how to get it back. Somehow the man seemed lost, and Stiles’ expression softened a little bit.

“How?” Stiles simply returned. This guy could be the most attractive man in the universe, and he might be lost and alone, but that did not mean that Stiles could trust him. For all he knew, this could be a trap.

“I see you’re almost out of arrows, I can go and fetch some more for you.” The slave said. The expression on the man’s face turned into one of determination and stood a little bit straighter, like he was trying to look even bigger and more intimidating.

“Y-You’d do that for me? You know that you’ll probably get killed, right?” Stiles asked the slave. This man must have hit his head pretty hard if he thought that he could just go and ‘fetch’ some arrows from a fallen soldier, out there in the battlefield.

The slave seemed to know that Stiles was thinking and he looked down to the ground for a moment, like he was thinking it over. After a moment, the man looked back up at Stiles.

“I know, but believe me, I can take care of myself.” The slave said. This caused Stiles to snort.

 “Yeah, sure. You totally did not need my help back there.” Stiles said with an amused smile on his face. The slave was now glaring daggers at Stiles, but Stiles did not let that bring him down. He thought it over again. He really needed more arrows, and if this fool somehow felt indebted with him, who was he to reject the offer, right?

Stiles nodded and gave a quick “Okay”. He pulled the string back but kept the arrow on the nock of his bow. The slave was right, he only had two arrows left. Stiles looked around the clearing and into the forest. It didn’t take him long to spot a quiver almost full with arrows, sitting against a tree. Beside it lay a body, Stiles couldn’t see if it was one of his own, but at that moment he couldn’t care less. The quiver was close enough for Stiles to spot it through the trees so it wouldn’t take long for the slave to get there.

“There.” Stiles said, and he pointed towards the quiver besides the fallen soldier.

The slave looked at where Stiles was pointing and squinted his eyes. After a few seconds he saw the quiver and looked back at Stiles with his eyebrows raised in a silent question.

“Go and get the quiver, I’ll cover you.” Stiles gripped his bow tightly, raised it and got into a battle stance. After a few seconds of nothing happening, Stiles looked back at the slave. He caught the man staring intently at Stiles, the slave seemed to realise what he was doing when he saw Stiles looking back at him. The man shook his head and looked down, and were his ears turning pink? No, that can’t be. It must’ve been Stiles imagination. Someone as handsome as the slave could never like someone like Stiles. Because the slave was definitely an eleven, and Stiles was a seven a good day.

Stiles looked back towards the quiver that was still at the same spot where he first saw it. “What are you waiting for? Go!” He said to the slave. If they kept standing here doing nothing, the chance of someone finding them got bigger and bigger, and Stiles did not want to fight someone right now, not when he didn’t have enough arrows to feel save.

The slave gave him a quick nod and took off running towards the fallen soldier. It was not long after the slave had taken off that Stiles saw a few of the enemy soldiers running towards the slave from different directions. He quickly took out one of the men while running the same way the slave had gone through the trees. The other soldier was much further away from Stiles, and even with Stiles’ skills at archery he probably wouldn’t hit the soldier because of the trees blocking most of his view.

Stiles ran a little faster, and when he was closer to the enemy soldier he crouched down to take the shot. But when he was about the fire, a man jumped him out of nowhere, causing his arrow to hit the soldier that was chasing after the slave in his shoulder rather than through his skull.

Stiles rolled on his back and saw the man who had tackled him standing up too, he was heavily-built and he had a big warhammer in his hands. Stiles did not want to introduce that weapon to his face. Not now, not ever.

The man tried to hit Stiles with the hammer but Stiles quickly evaded the attack by rolling away. He got up and just when he was about to pull his dagger from where he had hidden it in his boot as a last resort, he got kicked in the ribs and that sent him flying through the air. His back hit a tree and all air seemed to leave his body.

The big man walked towards him with a dark chuckle, like he enjoyed the sight of a wounded man (he probably did). Stiles vision started to blurry and suddenly there were three man instead of one, all looking exactly the same. In a feeble attempt to save his own life he threw his dagger at one of the three man, but his dagger went right through them. This only caused the big man to burst out laughing, but his victory was interrupted by a sickening sound. The sound of steel cutting through skin, flesh and muscle.

The big soldier fell to his knees and dropped his hammer, behind him stood the slave and Stiles did not believe his eyes. The man had saved his life while he could have ran for his own. But luckily for Stiles, he didn’t.

The slave walked around the soldier and put his hands on the soldiers head. The slave had a deadly look in his eyes, like he was in some sort of trance and he wasn’t himself anymore. The soldier called out a weak plea for mercy, but he didn’t get to finish the sentence because the slave had broken his neck with another sickening sound.

Stiles got up on shaky legs. “Are you alright?” He asked the slave. The man turned around and a worried look passed his face, but it was gone so quickly that Stiles could’ve simply imagined it.

The slave nodded and picked up the quiver of arrows he promised he would get for Stiles. Stiles in turn took the quiver and put it around his shoulder. Now he had two quivers on his back, and although it wasn’t the most comfortable thing in the world, it kind of made him feel like a badass.

Stiles picked up his bow from where he had dropped it, the string was damaged, but not broken. Nothing he couldn’t fix. He would have to do that when they got back to their camp.

“It’s getting dark out, we should head back to camp.” Stiles said, but not a second later he realised that this man had no camp to go back to. Also: Stiles was a good tracker, but he had absolutely no clue where they were right now.

Stiles looked at the slave, who had a pained expression on his face. “Are you alright? Are you wounded?” Stiles walked over to the slave and reached out, as to lay a steadying hand on the man’s shoulder.

“I’m fine” The slave answered, but Stiles hadn’t even fully raised his hand before the man collapsed with a pained grunt.

“Oh god. No no no no no no no! Shit! Please don’t die on me! Please don’t! Wake up! Come on, man! Wake up!” Stiles fell to his knees next to the unconscious slave who was lying on the cold ground, he slapped the slave in the face, but got no response.  He did it again, but there was still no response. Stiles put a hand in front of the man’s face to check if he was still breathing and Stiles let out a shaky breath when he felt the man’s warm breath on his hand.

Stiles got up and scanned the area but saw no sign of others. He needed to get this man to safety because he couldn’t just let him die out here in the forest, not after everything they had gone through. Stiles got up and pulled the slave up with him. He put one of the slave’s arms around his shoulders and started walking towards the mountains he saw over the treetops. The guy was really heavy (what would you expect, the guy was probably 200 pounds of _only_ muscle) and after a few minutes Stiles already began to feel his body starting to give in under the heavy weight.

“Come on. J-Just a little bit further, Stiles. You can do this. Come. On.” Stiles angrily muttered to himself in encouragement. He dragged the slave with him through the night, and desperately looked around for something, _anything_ , that could help keep them save. Because the sun had already set and if he did not find somewhere they could stay for the night soon, they would probably both die out here from the cold or from the wild animals that would love a little midnight _snack de Stiles_.

Stiles almost did a victory dance when he saw the small entrance to what must be a cave in the distance. It was on the edge of the mountain and Stiles heard a stream, so water was nearby, too. He wanted to cry, shout his thanks the Gods for their help. He didn’t, of course. There was still an unconscious body weighting him down and he didn’t think he had the energy to pick the man up again if he dropped him now.

Eventually Stiles got them both inside the cave (do you know how hard it is to pull an unconscious, heavy body through such a small opening!?). They were safe for tonight, and hopefully someone would find them in the morning when the soldiers retrieved the bodies of their fallen comrades.

Little did he know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed this first chapter and let me know if you want me to write more! 
> 
> If you are wondering what I imagine Derek's outfit to be like, here is the link: 
> 
> _http://www.google.nl/imgres?imgurl=http://th07.deviantart.net/fs71/PRE/f/2012/142/4/3/conan_the_barbarian__by_jodeee-d50ppub.jpg &imgrefurl=http://jodeee.deviantart.com/art/Conan-the-barbarian-303530771&h=1062&w=751&tbnid=D-gZDUMLg53XcM:&zoom=1&docid=FKeij-7NiN7ROM&ei=BWpQVa0e5LruBv_mgJAJ&tbm=isch&ved=0CGQQMyhcMFw4ZA_
> 
> (Holy macaroni sorry for a link that long, I don't know how to make a text with a link. WHOOPS!)
> 
> This work was not beta'd, so any mistakes are my own. (As always, please let me know if there are any major ones.)
> 
> Also: This very much is a work in progress, so I will probably make some changes in chapters I already posted!
> 
> Comments & kudos are always welcome! :D


	2. Fire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (This is somewhat of a shorter chapter. The next one will be longer, I promise!)
> 
> Chapter title taken from this song: Ingrid Michaelson - Fire
> 
> Heart attack up your sleeve  
> You can make me believe  
> That I will grow from the ground  
> After you burn me down
> 
> Ingrid Michaelson - Fire

_ Derek’s POV _

Derek woke up slowly and totally disorientated, he blinked against the bright morning sunlight that fell upon his face through a hole in the roof, somewhere above his head. He stretched his body but stopped halfway and froze when he realized that he wasn’t woken up by his commander like he usually was and that he didn’t know _where_ he was.

He tried to remember what had happened the previous day. Flashes of fights and bright, amber eyes flew through his head, but nothing really made any sense. Derek tried harder and he remembered a little more this time: Arrows flying through the air, the sharp sound of steel clashing against steel and a man lying on the ground with his neck snapped. Derek gave up after a few moments of trying to remember more but he got nothing new. He signed and attempted to sit up. Which was not made easy because of the fact that he had bandages around his arm, middle, shoulder, head and leg. He groaned when pain shot up his body like white hot jolts of electricity.

Suddenly there were two soft hands on his shoulders trying to gently push him back down towards his previous position. Derek immediately started to fight back but the hands only pushed back harder. Not that Derek had any real chance in the state he was in now, but that did not mean that he would just gave up. If someone was trying to keep him here, he would do everything he could to get out. He did it once, so he could do it a second time.

“Wait! You can’t sit up yet! Please! You’re only going to make it worse by moving so just lie down!” A soft voice said. Derek fully opened his eyes and scanned the room, looking for the source from where the sound had come from. Well, it was not much of a room because he was in a corner of a small cave. Natural light filtered through the tiny gaps in the ceiling and it actually looked kind of beautiful, the way that the light fell down on the damp rocks and shattered into thousands of tiny rainbows. But now was not the time to be thinking about light and rainbows because kneeling beside him were the amber eyes. Or rather the person who had those bright amber eyes. Derek looked more closely. This person was just a boy, or barely a man. Probably not older than twenty-one years old. He had a small, lithe body and judging by his light frame and the minimal armour he was wearing he must be some sort of archer.

This man was most definitely attractive, and he had obviously taken care of Derek for an unknown length of time, but that didn’t mean that Derek could fully trust him. The man was still his enemy. But his stupid mind did not agree. the man could've killed Derek at any point while he was out, but he didn't. He got the chance to kill Derek, but he decided to take care of Derek.

_Weird._

The man must have noticed Derek staring at him because his face –and neck- flushed a bright red. Derek would love to discover how far down the man's body the bright red flush went.

“I-I didn’t mean to startle you. You’re injured and I was only trying to help you. Do you-“ The man stuttered. He looked down into his lap, and when Derek looked down to the hand that were still glued to his uninjured shoulder, the man seemed to realise that he still had his hand on Derek’s shoulders. Derek looked back up at the man, who was now flushed an even brighter red than before and the man quickly pulled his hand back into his lap, like Derek had been on fire.

That thought gave Derek an involuntary chill down is spine. He had to stop thinking about fires, because the pain was still too raw. When he thought about fires, he thought about the fire that killed almost all of his family members. Every time someone made or mentioned fire, he froze and would stare blankly to a random point somewhere in the distance, deep in thought. Someone would eventually get him back down to earth, and they would always ask him if something was wrong, or if he needed help. But Derek never responded. He just quietly shook his head and closed himself off even more. Like a defense mechanism. He always did this when someone tried to get close or was worried about him. It reminded him of his mother, how she used to care so much for her family. She loved them all so much. Thinking about it caused him to feel empty and hollow, like something was taken from inside of him. He knew what that feeling was, because it felt like his heart was wrenched out of his chest. 

Like somehow when his family died, his heart died with them. For every family member, a piece was lost. Untill there was almost nothing left.

It felt like he was turning to stone from the inside out. 

Derek was pulled from his thoughts when the man awkwardly scratched the back of his neck (probably in embarrassment). He was still kneeling besides Derek and he looked like he wanted to say something, but had thought better of it. Derek stared blankly at the man, but the man kept quiet.

“Do I what?” Derek asked him eventually, and he gave a deep sign. He was done waiting for the man to start talking.  

“Do you remember what happened yesterday?” The man asked Derek warily. The man's amber eyes met his and the world seemed to stop for just a second before the man quickly looked away and gave an awkward cough. Derek looked away too. He must have slightly scared the man with his staring, but he just couldn’t help it. If the Gods gave him someone as beautiful as this man to look at, who would he be to not cherish every second of it?

“No, not everything. But I remember the most parts.” Derek answered honestly. It was the least he could do. Nonetheless, this man had saved his life.

“I remember you saving my life, and then I saved yours. But nothing after that.” Derek said. This made the man look back up at Derek, but this time with surprise written all over his face, and a slight tilt to his lips in a small smile.

“Yeah, you passed out. Probably because of all your injuries. I guess we’re even now.” The man responded, and his smile grew slightly.

Derek doubted that, not after everything this man had done for him. He looked down to where he was covered with a thick layer of fur. The man must have ripped his winter cloak apart to be able to properly cover Derek’s frame. The man had actually given up on his only cloak that he would probably need more than Derek. The nights could get really cold in this time of the year. The thought that the actually cared for Derek made something in Derek's stomach twist, but in a good way. He found himself slightly scared of what he was feeling, but also something so much deeper inside of him stirred at the thought. Something he hadn't felt in a really long time. 

Something he didn't know if he was ready to feel again.

The man must’ve followed Derek’s eyes to the layer of fur covering Derek's body because in the next moment he started to talk really quickly and Derek had to pay close attention to follow what the man was talking about.

“Oh, the fur? That’s nothing, just some old thing I got from m-my." The man drifted off there with a pained look. Like he remembered something from his past that still hurt him thinking about it. Derek knew that feeling all too well. The man coughed and continued: "It’s not important, forget it. We’re even, okay? You don’t have to pay me back or devote your life to protect me or anything. I decided to help you and that’s my decision, the end. So... Nice place, huh? It’s kind of cold at night, without the cloak, but it’s okay as long as we keep a fire up. We really should get some more wood, though.” The man drifted off again, this time deep in thought with his brows pulled together so they were almost touching.

Derek looked up at the man with amusement in his eyes. This man reminded him of a certain older sister from his past. He couldn't think or say her name yet, because that too still hurt too much. But seeing this man spastically waving his arms while he was talking and seeing the expressions change on his face made Derek feel a weird, twisted kind of contentment.

“Okay.” Derek simply returned to the man, and he gave him a small smile in return. Derek smiled back at him and for a moment they just stared and smiled at each other, taking the other person in. The man was the one to break their ‘moment’ when he suddenly rose up from where he had been sitting on the ground besides Derek’s bed.  The man walked over to the other side of the small cave and picked up what looked to be a bow and a quiver. 

“You going somewhere?” Derek asked the man with suspicion in his eyes. The man couldn't leave him here alone. He wouldn't, would he? Surely not after everything they went through.

The man looked back at him and put both the bow and quiver around his shoulders and started walking towards the door. Well it was really just some sort of animal skin hanging from the ceiling in the small opening to the cave.

The man pulled back the tiny layer of skin hanging in the opening and a soft, cold breeze swept through the cave. Winter must be just around the corner and Derek was surprised that the man hadn't freezed to death the previous night. Derek quickly called out to him. “Wait! What’s your name?” Derek asked the man.

The man looked back at Derek over his shoulder and give him a small smile.

“Stiles.” The man said, and Derek didn’t even have the time to ask him what the hell kind of name that was before the man was gone from his sight and the thin layer of skin once again hung in the opening to the cave.

“What the hell kind of name is _Stiles_?” Derek said to himself, rather confused to what had happened after he had woken up. He pushed it to the back of his mind and made himself more comfortable under the thick layer of fur and closed his eyes. If he wasn’t able (or allowed) to move, then he should probably just catch up on some sleep. He didn't get much sleep after the fire. Every night when he went to sleep, nightmares would plague his dreams and he would wake up covered in sweat, his throat aching from the screaming he had done and blood in his palms from where his finger nails had pierced the skin. 

But not now, now he would sleep and when he woke up some time later, the man _-Stiles-_ would be there again. Derek would get to see those magnificent amber eyes and his beautiful, lithe body again.

And with that thought Derek drifted back to a peaceful, dreamless sleep. No nightmares of blazing fires and screaming people plagued him.

It was all just black.

Calmness.

And somehow that was one of the best things to have happened to Derek in a very long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for sticking with this story! I hope you like it so far! Please let me know what you think!
> 
> I'm definitely going to write more chapters, they'll probably be posted soon! 
> 
> (This work was not beta'd, so any mistakes are my own. Please let me know if there are any major ones!)
> 
> Comments & Kudos are always appreciated! ( ^_^ )


	3. Youth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a bit longer (as promised!), I hope you'll all like it! 
> 
> The chapter title is taken from this song: Daughter - Youth
> 
> Shadows settle on the place, that you left.  
> Our minds are troubled by the emptiness.  
> Destroy the middle, it's a waste of time.  
> From the perfect start to the finish line.
> 
> Daughter - Youth

_ Stiles' POV _

Stiles took a deep breath and felt the cold morning air fill up his lungs. He held it and just when he was about to exhale he let go of the string of his bow, hitting the deer he had been chasing for the past few minutes right between its eyes. It fell to the ground with a quiet whine.

Stiles got up from where he had been hiding between a few rocks on a small slope. He made his way down the slope towards his kill and examined it. The deer looked small and tired, even in death. The thought of killing something so weak made Stiles want to vomit, but he had to do it in order to survive. It was all he could do.

Stiles gave a deep sign and put his bow back around his shoulders. He picked up his kill and turned around, following the trail he had made so he wouldn’t get lost in these woods _again_.

Not long after that Stiles saw the familiar sight of one of his markings. It was what his mother had used when they would go out hunting together when Stiles was younger. Much younger. It was an easy symbol to spot if you knew what to look for, because the emblem was simply made out of three stripes and from some distance away it looked exactly like a bear had scratched his claws on the bark of the tree. But when you got closer and took a better look you could see a faint ‘S’ carved around the middle one of the three stripes carved into the wood.

It was perfect, just like her.

Stiles shook the thoughts from his mind and continued. He soon found the entrance to the cave and quickly made his way inside. When he got in he was greeted by the sight of the slave snoring quietly. This made something in Stiles’ insides tingle, but he wouldn’t get his hopes up, not again at least. He had once tried to make the Duchess’ best friend, Lady Martin, fall for him.

It did not go well for him. 

 _Obviously_.

Stiles put the deer in the corner to skin and prepare it to eat later. He had to change the slave’s bandages. Stiles gave another deep sign and picked up the thin, white material. He kneeled down besides the sleeping form of the slave and started pulling the bandages off of him as gently as he could. He started with the bandage wrapped around the slaves waist, he tried to tear the material in the middle but to no avail. He pulled a little bit harder but not a second later he realised that it had been a mistake, the slave stirred awake with a pained grunt and tried to shove Stiles’ hands off of him.

“No, please. Stop. I need to change your bandages.” Stiles begged the slave quietly. He was not usually the person to go begging for stuff, but the situation was totally different when you were dealing with a grumpy slave, looking like he could kill you with a single look.

The slave looked up at him and blinked away the last bit of sleep in his eyes. He studied Stiles face with a deep frown but apparently could not find anything because he gave a quick nod.

Stiles let go of the breath he didn’t know he was holding and gently started to pull on the bandage again. This time it did come off with some help from the slave. Stiles worked as quickly as he could, pulling the bandages off the slave’s body and throwing them to the far side of the cave. Not long after that Stiles only had to do the shoulder and arm now, the trickiest part. He tried to think of a way to pull the bandages off without asking the slave to move, but came up with nothing. He signed internally. Why was this his life?

Stiles looked back up at the slave’s face and saw that the man was already watching Stiles. He must have been watching Stiles this whole time and he hadn't even noticed. Stiles flushed a deep red at the thought.

“C-Could you please turn on you side? I need to change the bandage on your shoulder.” Stiles asked the slave.

The man nodded in response and turned over with a groan.

The sight that greeted Stiles had him almost gasp in disgust and drool in arousal. The man’s back was covered in strong muscle and Stiles had to hold himself back not to lick the skin. What worried him though, was the sight of the man’s shoulder where an arrow must have hit him. It did not look good and Stiles tentatively put two of his fingers under the wound, close enough to almost touch the wound. The slave gave a grunt of pain and flinched from his touch. Stiles quickly pulled back his hand and muttered a quiet apology.

“Okay, um, your shoulder does not look good, dude. I think I need to clean it again. It’s probably going to hurt. Sorry in advance.” Stiles said. The slave didn’t have any time to respond because Stiles quickly pulled of the bandage. The man gave a shout of pain and tried to turn on his back again, probably to give Stiles a piece of his mind, but Stiles stopped him with one of his hands, and with the other he picked up his flask and poured almost all of water on the man’s shoulder. The man flinched again but Stiles held him in place as best as he could. The man was now groaning in pain continiously, but Stiles did not stop. If he didn't clean the wounds now, they would start to get infected and he did _not_ want to have to deal with that. 

“What are you doing?” The man snapped, still trying to roll back on his back.

“What I’m doing is trying to keep you from having an infection, that’s what I’m doing.” Stiles said back through gritted teeth, and for emphasis he put a little bit more pressure on the wound when he started bandaging the man’s shoulder up again. The mas was wise enough to keep his mouth shut after that and soon after Stiles sat back and looked at the result. The slave’s shoulder looked a lot better without the blood-stained bandage and the dried blood covering it.

Stiles gently pulled on the man’s shoulder to get him to lie back down. The man followed Stiles’ silent command and looked away.

Stiles only had to change the bandages on the man’s arm now. He unwrapped the old bandage and poured some water on the wounds that were now visible. The man flinched a little bit and tried to pull back his arm but Stiles had a strong hold on his upper arm, not letting the man's arm go. Stiles looked up into the man’s eyes and when he saw no sign of pain left he sat the flask down by his side. As always he got distracted and started to absentmindedly trace the thick vein on the man’s arm with one of his fingers, all the way from the man’s shoulder to the hollow of his elbow. A cough pulled him out of his trance and he quickly looked up and froze. The slave must have seen Stiles openly admiring his arms, and Stiles had to admit that he had been almost drooling. The man must think Stiles was some kind of pervert or something, with all the looking and touching. Stiles blushed and looked away in embarrassment, he picked up a new bandage and quickly wrapped it around the man’s arm. Seriously though, the man had massive arms, and who wouldn’t use the opportunity to admire the perfect that was the man's body?

Not Stiles.

Stiles sat back and looked into the man’s eyes. They were a beautiful splash of colours that Stiles had not noticed or seen before because the natural light that fell into the cave hadn’t fallen on the man’s face yet. But now a ray of sunlight fell upon the man’s face and the sight was amazing. The slave’s eyes were a magnificent mix of pastel blue, pale green and gold. Stiles realised that he must have been sitting and staring for a little bit too long again because the slave looked away awkwardly with a faint tint of pink to the tips of his ears.

Stiles cleared his throat and looked away too. This was getting really awkward really fast.

He stood up, picked up the blood-stained bandages and threw them into the corner of the small cave with the other used bandages. Stiles looked around for something to do but came up with nothing. He looked down to the slave who was staring intently to the wall on the far side of the cave like it was the most fascinating thing to look at in the world. Stiles sat down next to the man again and picked a few stray bits of material from a corner of the fur covering the slave’s body. At the movement the slave turned his head.

Stiles opened his mouth to say something but was interrupted by the man.

“Thank you, Stiles “ The slave said. Something in the man’s eyes softened but it was gone way too soon for Stiles to analyse it later in his head, like the man was afraid Stiles would see how vulnerable he was in this state. Even though Stiles already knew. 

“It’s no big deal.” Stiles told the man and looked down towards where his hands were now playing with a corner from the soft fur blanket. When he looked back up after a moment of not hearing anything, he saw that the man obviously did not agree if his angry glare was anything to go by. Like he didn’t know how to respond to this and was angry at Stiles for saying something like this to him. 

Before the man could come up with a response (which would not be soon by the looks of it) Stiles asked him: “What’s your name?”

The man looked doubtful, like he still didn’t fully trust Stiles even after everything Stiles had done for him. That hurt Stiles a little bit, he had expected the man to at least accept him as an ally. Or a friend. Or something along the lines of casual acquaintances. But it turned out Stiles had gotten his hopes up. _Again_.

After a moment of silence Stiles was about to stand up and just take a walk in the forest, but the man must have seen him getting up because he quickly said: “Derek.”

Derek.

 _Derek_.

“Derek?” Stiles wondered aloud. Where had he heard that name before? He tried to search his mind but the slav- _Derek_ interrupted his thoughts.

“Hale. Derek Hale.” Derek said slowly, like Stiles was a little kid. He turned his head slightly and looked away from Stiles.

“Wait, whaaaat?!” Stiles eyes went wide as he suddenly remembered where he had heard that name before. King Peter _Hale._ The _Hale_ Family. _The Hale Fire_.

Derek turned his head quickly and tensed, like he expected Stiles to attack him now he knew who Derek was.

“ _You_ are Derek Hale?! As in _King Peter Hale’s nephew?!”_ Stiles exclaimed while waving his hands in a rather spastic manner. He fell back onto his arms and but and crawled backwards on hands and feet until his back hit the far wall of the cave. Which was a really stupid idea because now he had to pass Derek to get to the entrance to the cave if he would have to escape.

_Dammit!_

Derek looked at Stiles with a vulnerable expression on his face, like he didn’t know what to say to Stiles to calm him down.

“No. I mean yes.” Derek said and Stiles eyes widened further. He quickly stood up and grabbed his bow, not taking any chances. If this man was going to attack him than Stiles would be ready.

“No! Not like that, please! Listen to me! At least hear me out!” Derek said to Stiles with pleading eyes and his hands . In the meantime Stiles had already loaded an arrow onto his bow and pulled his knife from his boot.

“Explain.” Stiles said. He knew this man did not deserve how Stiles was treating him right now, but Stiles had learned from previous encounters that the enemy was not to be trusted, even if they were a hot, wounded, slightly confused looking Adonis.

“It’s…” Derek said, and it seemed like he was looking for the right words, but couldn't find them.

“It’s complicated.” He finally settled on. Stiles gave a deep sign and pulled the string on his bow back towards his face. It would now take about half a second to kill Derek in the small space of the cave, if Derek tried anything funny.

“Well I have all the time in the world and you don’t really have a choice now, do you?.” Stiles told him. Derek looked at him with pleading eyes again, but Stiles wouldn’t budge.

“Talk or die. You have ten seconds to start explaining the situation to me, otherwise I _will_ _kill_ you.” Stiles said, and he started to count down from ten. He knew he wouldn't shoot this man, he wasn't that brute. He couldn't shoot a wounded, unarmed man. 

Derek’s eyes widened and his mouth moved but no words came out, like he wanted to say something but didn’t know where to start.

When Stiles got to three Derek almost screamed: “Stop! Wait okay! I’ll tell you, I-I’ll tell you everything you want to know.” Derek looked away and Stiles could be wrong, but he thought he saw sadness and defeat in Derek’s eyes. Stiles did not like the look af that.

Stiles pulled the arrow from his bow and lay the arrow and his bow back down, but kept the knife in his hands just in case Derek decided to change his mind. He sat down with his back against the cave wall and his arms on his knees. Stiles gave Derek a questioning look with both eyebrows raised and made a ‘go on’ gesture with his hands.

Derek signed deeply, but complied.

“I’m Derek Hale, son to former Queen Talia and former King James. Nephew to King Peter and rightful heir to the throne.” Derek was still not looking at Stiles, but at least he was cooperating so Stiles didn’t mind it too much.

“Before the fire that killed almost every last member of my family, I was arranged to marry Duchess Allison to form an alliance between our lands. We both didn’t like it, but we accepted it as our duty to our people. The night before our wedding, the fire happened.” Derek took a deep breath and continued, still avoiding Stiles’ eyes. Like he was afraid Stiles' eyes were somehow going to turn him to stone if he looked into them now.

“The Duchess cancelled our wedding, but I didn’t care. I was too lost in grief to care. The next day guards slammed my bedroom doors and arrested me. They said that I would be locked up for what I did. The Duchess and King Peter had told them that I had started the fire to cancel the wedding. Peter was made king and he made me a slave to work in the castle as punishment for what I did, so everyone could see me on my knees and call me names. They treated me like dirt. The Duchess was mad with rage, though, and soon she exclaimed that the Hale Family was crazy and that we should’ve all burned that night. I think you know the rest of the story.” Derek drifted off there, probably lost in thought with bad memories.

Stiles cold stare softened and he crawled towards Derek, who in turn looked up sharply at the sound of Stiles getting nearer, like he expected Stiles to kill him now anyway.

Stiles froze and dropped his knife and put his hands in front of him with his palms facing Derek, gesturing that he did not intent any harm. He sat on his knees beside Derek and thought about what he could say to the man.

“I’m so sorry.” Was the only thing he could think of. Derek had gone through a lot, it must have been devastating losing so many family members, all at once. Stiles knew how it felt to lose _one_ , but losing  _multiple?_ The thought made him sick to his stomach.

Derek shook his head. “You didn’t know, it’s okay.” He gave Stiles a weak smile that didn't reach his eyes.

“But I should have.” Stiles muttered in response. He didn’t think Derek would hear him, but he must have because the man’s eyes softened and he hesitantly lay a comforting hand on one of Stiles’ knees.

Stiles eyes widened at the comfort the man was showing him, and Stiles lay his hand on Derek’s and squeezed gently.

“It’s okay.” Derek said again, more quietly this time.

“My mom died, too, when I was little.” Stiles said, he didn’t get much further because Derek quickly said: “You don’t have to share this if you’re not ready. Not because I shared some of my history with you.” He paused there and stared intently into Stiles’ eyes. “Tell me when you are ready to tell me.”

He rubbed his thumb over Stiles’ knee twice before pulling his hand away. Stiles nodded and sat back with his hands between his knees to keep them warm and from flailing around. He could feel the ghost of Derek's touch on his knees and he tried to focus on the warmth Derek's hand had left.

What Derek had told him must have been really hard for him. Stiles felt guilty that he forced the man to talk. He should make it up to Derek, he just didn’t know _how_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for sticking with this story! Next chapter will be up somewhere this week!
> 
> As always, this work was not beta'd and any mistakes are my own. (Feel free to correct me!)
> 
> Comments & Kudos are always appreciated! :D


	4. In The Shallows

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter title is taken from this song: Daughter - Shallows
> 
> If you leave,  
> When I go...  
> You'll find me,  
> in the shallows.
> 
> Daughter - Shallows
> 
> (I recommend that you listen to the songs while reading because they give you a really good feel of the atmosphere of that particular chapter!)

"DEREK!!!"

Derek woke up with a start, emmediatly sitting up and blinking his eyes rapidly. It took him a few seconds to realize where he was when his eyes adjusted to the dim lighting in the cave. He looked around and saw, well, nothing. No signs of anyone around him. He just had to -

"AAHHHH!!!"

Derek was on his feet in a blink of an eye, his heart in his throat because now he recognised the voice.

It belonged to Stiles.

The thought made Derek shudder and he tried to swallow the lump in his throat. Stiles was in pain, he had to get him. Derek heard a few more shouts of pain coming from outside the cave and as he was surprised to feel no pain himself. His shoulder wasn't trobbing, and his bandages were gone.

Derek shook his head because this was not his priority right now. The sight that greeted him when he set a foot outside of the cave made his breath hitch and his heart stop for a second. Because Stiles was on his knees and he was staring at Derek with big, round eyes filled with fear and tears. Behind him stood an all to familiar figure; blond hair, evil grin and crazy eyes.

Kate.

"How nice of you to join us here, Derek!" Kate said in a sweet tone, but Derek knew better than to trust her. It was all a facade.

Derek didn't respond, he just stood there, nailed to the ground. He didn't know what to do. He opened his mouth to say something but no words came out, only something that sounded like a low whimper.

"Ahw baby," Kate said with the same sweet voice and smile, which made Derek shudder, "I thought I killed every last person you care for, but here is this boy. Not what we agreed to, is it?"

Derek remained quiet, he didn't know what kate was talking about but he just needed to get Stiles to safety, even if he was to get killed in the process.

"Now, I will end him!" Kate screamed, her face twisting into one of pure anger and hate. She pulled a knife out of nowhere and Derek had no chance to run at her or scream or beg or do something because the knife was already planted firmly into Stiles' throat.

Derek screamed Stiles's name and ran for Kate, his eyesight turning bloodred and he could only feel pain and hate and anger and regret. Now, he would kill her for what she did to him. Again.

He ran at Kate, an evil smile still on her lips and she started to laugh bitterly at Derek. Derek made a fist and pulled his arm back-

 

"Stiles!" Derek screamed, he sat up in his bed. Sweat covered his entire body and his breathing was erratic. He looked around the cave and shook his head. He scrubbed a hand down his face and signed. It had all been a dream. No, a nightmare. Derek took a deep breath to try and calm himself down, which did nothing when he looked up and noticed that Stiles was absent.

His heartbeat picking up again as he tried to stand while at the same time calling Stiles' name. He got up after a few tries and when he rightened his back he gave a groan when it cracked in a few places. Derek bit through his yawn and ran out of the cave.

The sunlight was bright and he had to squint his eyes, still calling for Stiles. After a few seconds of turning his head left and right, looking for a clue as to where Stiles could have gone, he saw some footprints not to far away and he decided that this was his only option so he sprinted in the direction of the footprints.

Derek was not sure how long he had been running but after a while he heard very faint "Derek?" somewhere to his right. He turned right and after a few seconds he was running into a clearing with a small lake and even a waterfall. But that was not what got his attention, because Stiles was standing in the middle of the small lake with no clothes on and Derek could just see the top of Stiles' ass.

Derek swallowed soundly and took a moment to just stare, not sure if he was being creepy or not but not really caring either way. Little Derek defenitely took interest in what Derek saw so Derek cleared his throat.

Stiles turned around so fast that Derek could swear he heard Stiles' neck crack. When Stiles' eyes zero'ed in on Derek he let out a small gasp and put his arms around him to hide as much of his skin from Derek as he could, not that is helped anything, because Derek could see moles dotted across his body and a stripe of hair under his belly button. Derek licked his lips because he wanted to follow the moles and that line of hair down and see what he would find there.

Stiles flushed a bright red and coughed when Derek made no move to do anything other than stare at Stiles. Derek shook his head and he was sure the tips of his ears turned pink when he saw Stiles smiling faintly.

"Hey" Stiles muttered so quietly that Derek almost didn't hear him over the sound of the waterfall. Stiles looked down in embarrassment and coughed.

"Uhm, h-hey" Derek said and he cleared his throat when his voice broke. He awkwardly scratched the back of his neck and looked down too, not sure what to do now. There was a moment of complete silence between them, but as expected Stiles had to break that silence.

"Where you looking for me?" Stiles asked, and his blush only seemed to deepen when Derek's head shot up.

"Yeah, I - I thought you -" Derek broke of there because he didn't know how to end that sentence without making himself look like a fool.

"Nevermind..." Derek muttered, he knew he should explain himself or just say something to break this tension but he didn't know what to say.

"Uh, sure. Yeah. Well you found me now, so...?" Stiles drifted of there, letting the question hang between them like he was expecting Derek to fill in the blanks. Derek didn't respond he just shrugged and looked everywhere but to Stiles.

"Fine" Stiles bit out, he was probably a little bit frustrated with Derek for not giving him an answer. Derek understood, he would be too in Stiles' position.

"S- Sorry, to interrupt you, a- and because, you know..." Derek stuttered. He was nervous, okay? He dropped his hand and turned around quickly, not wanting this moment to last any longer so he could curl up in himself and feel sorry for himself.

He didn't get far before Stiles voice rang through the clearing; "Or you could stay?"

Derek turned around, surprised and there must be something showing on his face because Stiles quickly said: "O- Or not. If you don't want to, but the temperature of this water is actually really warm and the waterfall makes for a great shower to wast of all the blood and dirt."

At Derek's dry look and raised eyebrow Stiles flushed again and his eyes widened. "N- Not that you're dirty or anything! I didn't mean it like that, really. I just thought some cleaning might do you good, not that you stink! No, don't listen to me! You don't stink like, at all! You actually smell really good." Stiles muttered that last sentence but Derek still heard it and he was sure his cheeks, ears and neck were flushed pink now.

"Okay" Derek said with a single nod. He walked back towards the lake and when he got to the edge of the water he started to strip, starting with his bandages. It didn't take long for Derek to take everything off, he only had his chainmail leggings on now and he looked up to see Stiles staring at him with his jaw slack, his eyes widened and his pupils blown. Stiles shook his head and muttered "Oh, sorry, uhm yeah, let me just turn around. Yeah." And he turned around so now his back was to Derek.

Derek stepped out of his last piece of clothing and walked around to the more rockier side of the lake. Once there he took a few steps back from the edge of the rocks and then jumped from the higher rocks into the water. He could hear Stiles gasping when the water hit his back. Derek poked only his head out of the water and smiled wickedly towards Stiles.

"You totally did that on purpose, didn't you?" Stiles was obviously trying to sound mad but his lips were twitching like he was holding in a smile and his eyes were bright with amusement. Derek chuckled at the same time Stiles let out his laugh and he nodded. Derek stood up, he was in deeper water so only the top half of his torso was above water, only his upper two abs could be seen. Not that it really mattered because as soon as Derek stood up Stiles eyes shot towards his chest and Derek could see Stiles' eyes following the lines of his muscles, like he was trying to remember every detail.

Derek coughed awkwardly. "Thank you" he said.

Stiles looked into Derek's eyes and frowned in a silent question. "For taking care of me" Derek explained.

"No problem" Stiles answered him, his face radiating warmth with a small smile and soft eyes. "Speaking of taking care of you, let me see your back, you had a pretty nasty looking wound there" Derek nodded and turned around, facing away from Stiles. He could feel and hear the water moving as Stiles walked over to him in the water. After a few seconds he felt a soft hand between his two shoulderblades, right over his tattoo. The hand moved lower untill only the tips of the fingers were touching Derek's tattoo.

"It's beautiful" Stiles said with a faraway voice, like he was saying it to himself. "Your tattoo I mean."

"Thank you, it's my family's symbol, the triskele." Derek told him. Pieces of his childhood flashing before his eyes. His mother smiling down at him and telling him he was a big boy for not crying when he fell down the porch stairs and cut his hand. The memories pained him, but they also got him to smile faintly.

"Your wounds look good to me, no infection or anything" Stiles said, starling Derek out of his memories. He must've blacked out for a bit, lost in his own head.

"Good." Derek answered, not able to form full sentences yet. He shaked his head, trying to empty the memories of his family for now and pushing them to the back of his mind. 'So they'll come back in the middle of the night' said the little voice in his head, but he ignored that, too.

For now, at least.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry it took me this long to post another chapter! I decided I wanted a new laptop and I had some problems with it but everythings up and running now!
> 
> I will have to say that I'm on vacation right now and this chapter was typed on my Ipad, so I will make some changes to it when I come home next week. (Seriously, I do NOT recommend typing stuff with an Ipad because it really is a big pain in the behinds, trust me!)
> 
> Please let me know what you think! Your opinion is always appreciated! ;]
> 
> (This work was not beta'd, so any mistakes are my own. Please let me know if there are any major ones!)


	5. The Woods

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for taking so long to update! Just university and general life getting in the way (and not having any inspiration or motivation to write...).
> 
> You guys really help, though! Your comments and kudos really keep me going, so, well, I guess, thanks for everything you've done!
> 
> Chapter title taken from the song 'The Woods' by Daughter (which is my favorite band if you haven't noticed)
> 
> We are what we are  
> Don't need no excuses  
> For the scars  
> From our mothers
> 
> Daughter - The Woods

_Stiles' POV_

When they got back to their cave (wow, that sounds  _so_ weird, calling it  _their_ cave) Stiles started skinning and preparing the deer he had caught for dinner. He lit a small fire, as to not smoke them out, and was actually quite impressed with himself for not setting  _everthing on fire._  

Stiles was so busy with the deer and food, that he hadn't noticed Derek staring intentely to him. When Stiles did look up and caught Derek's gaze, the other man seemed to snap out of his thoughts and quickly\ glared over at what Stiles had been calling Derek's favorite wall of the cave in his head. He seemed oddly attached to that wall.

Yet again: _Weird._

Not long after that the food was ready to be served and Stiles was handing Derek the biggest part of the meat with a shy look on his face. "You need it, you haven't eaten in a while." He said. Derek frowned at him but took the meat with little to no hesitation. For a moment Stiles' eyes were fixed on where Derek was biting into the meat, the juice coming out of it and falling on his chest (because Stiles told the bastard to lay down because he needs his rest, dammit!). Stiles cleared his throat awkwardly, trying to get rid of the ball that had formed there, and dug into his own piece. While it was smaller than Derek's, he didn't need the food as much as Derek did. Stiles had eaten some of the berries while he had been hunting for the deer. Also: Derek looked like he hadn't had a proper meal in a very long time, probably due to his slave status.  

And didn't that thought just make him see red. _God._ They had probably tortured Derek (physically _and_ emotionally) every chance they got. Stiles didn't even want to think about it, the thoughts made him sick and he suddenly could not swallow the piece of meat in his mouth. 

Derek must've noticed Stiles suddenly turning a slight green color and swallowing his last piece of meat with a grimace, because he stopped with his meat halfway to his mouth and lowered it down into his lap. Derek looked at him with those absolutely amazing eyes and raised his eyebrows towards Stiles in silent question.

"I-It's nothing, really" Stiles stuttered in answer at the eyebrows. They made him nervous, okay! He quickly looked down and away from Derek's face because just looking at Derek made him want to spill all of his darkest secrets out to him, which was a weird thought. 

He better ignore it untill it went away. That would be best. It always worked for him in the past, why wouldn't it now, right??

This was the first time Stiles was defenitely _not_ impressed with his own internal monologe.

Derek glared at him and grunted, probably to try and make Stiles look up, but no, not going to happen. "What's wrong, Stiles?" Derek asked, and when Stiles looked up and found the look on Derek's face softer than he had expected. He found himself wanting to yet again just say it, but he couldn't, he wouldn't bring Derek back to his probably painfull memories, he just wouldn't. He knew how important it was to let people with those kind of memories forget about them for a while. He knew it from first hand experience.

"It's really nothing, I'm not hungry, you should eat though, you need it." Stiles answered him in an almost whisper, and he knew from the look on Derek's face that Derek had picked up on his lie. 

Stiles lay his last piece of meat on a somewhat cleaner looking stone so that Derek could finish it later, and then sat down close to the fire to warm up his hands. The nights were getting longer and longer and Stiles knew that they would soon be colder, too.

While Stiles warmed his hands, Derek finished his last piece of meat and then reluctantly ate Stiles' too when Stiles handed it to him with a look on his face that said: 'I will seriously hurt you if you don't accept this meat and eat it whole'. He could be scary sometimes, he knew.

Later that night, with the moon already high in the sky, Stiles and Derek sat around the fire and after some prodding and poking from Stiles, Derek lay down on his makeshift bed with a huff, glaring intentely at Stiles all the while. 

After a long moment of complete silence between them, both not wanting to end it, Derek cleared his throat. Stiles looked up at him with a frown and shook his head slightly in question. 

"You never told me your last name." Derek _didn't_ ask. Stiles huffed and sat up a little bit, this could get real differcult real fast. 

"You never asked me." Stiles retorted, and he quickly looked at Derek and away to gauge his reaction.

Derek glared at him, probably annoyed at Stiles' non-answer, but that was his own fault, Derek didn't ask him, not really. "No, but I do now." Derek said with a slight smirk on his face, like he enjoyed bickering with Stiles. And didn't the thought of that make Stiles' stomach break out if a fit of giggles.

Oh boy, he was so in over his head.

Stiles signed deeply, straightened his shoulders and thought: 'Fuck it'. "My name is Genim Stilinski." His shoulders shot up again in defence for the coming blow of words that he expected to come from Derek. Like anyone else he told his full name to, he expected Derek to judge him for his name, ask him what the hell he was even doing here and why. But no words came, not even a small huff or a sign. Nothing. Just silence.

When Stiles dared to look up at Derek again, he saw the other man staring at him with an intensity that made Stiles want to squirm. But he didn't. He held Derek's gaze because he was not going to cower, not this time. 

Derek broke their moment when he looked away and asked Stiles silently, with disbelief in his voice: "You're a Stilinski?"

Stiles rolled his eyes and signed before he answered bitterly: "Yes, yes I am one of those Stilinski's. Not many of them around anymore are there?" He looked down at the slowly dying fire, not wanting to talk any more about his family. 

Stiles knew who his parents where, he knew what they did and what his father was still trying to do. People always looked strangely at him when he told them his last name, and explained to them that _yes_ , he was really a Stilinski, and _yes_ , he knew who his parents are, okay?

They knew all about it, how is mom and dad had helped the start of the Great Rebellion, how his father was now a commander overseas fighting the war for freedom and equality for slaves and the poor, how his mother died while fighting in the first big attack the Rebellion held against the King, and how they failed miserably at that.

They knew it all.

He knew people judged him for it, he just simply did not care. His mom and dad were his family first and commands in the Great Rebellion second.

If only most of the realm would think like that about his parents.

Stiles was so deep in thought he hadn't noticed Derek laying back down in his makeshift bed. Derek startled him when he started talking with his deep voice, but it was again said softly, like he though he would break Stiles if he spoke too loudly. "I know who your father is, Stiles, and what your family has done. But I can't say that I disagree with them. My uncle is mad, and he needs to be put down." Stiles noticed that that last bit was said with his teeth clenched together and his hands balled up in fists, like he physically wanted to end his _own friggin uncle._

Stiles whiped at the tears that had found their way down his cheeks and gave Derek a watery smile in thanks. He didn't know what came over him, but he grabbed hold of one of Derek's hands and gave it a small squeeze. He looked down at it and then back up at Derek. He found the other man smiling back at him with a worried look on his face, but Stiles just squeezed Derek's hand again and then let go to sit back down at the small fire, but still in arm's reach of Derek. You know, just in case. Not because Derek was amazingly hot and he wanted to touch him every chance he got.

Not at all.

 

When the fire slowly died down and turned into smoldering embers, white smoke started to come out of Stiles' mouth with every exhale. Derek was now sound asleep.

Stiles shivered, without his coat to keep him warm, this was going to be a long, long night. He rubbed his arms in a faint attempt at warming them, but he knew it was useless. The tents they slept in back in the camp they had set up before the strike today where always cold too, not doing anything at keeping the cold, harsh wind away. At least he had his coat then to keep him warm, but Stiles knew Derek needed it more.

He shivered again and if he turned his head a little bit and just sat up a bit more, he could faintly make out snowflakes through the small opening when the fur hide moved softly in the wind.

Stiles moved back a bit, now with his back pressed against the cold wall of the cave. He was farther away from the remains of the fire now, but this had to do for the night. He shuffled a bit and then came to the conclusion that it wouldn't get any more comfortable, so he signed deeply and settled in for the night, his mom and dad fresh in his mind. 

 

Winter was coming.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ohh! Exciting! Winter is coming! (If you get that reference just know that you are boss and I love you)  
> Next chapter will be covered in snow! (Even though it's almost summer where I live, I was just in a snowwy kinda feeling, okay?)
> 
> If you wondered what I imagine Stiles' coat looking like, here it is: http://ekladata.com/KQJ1GtNTj5wh-htCbtDgrFsfP7A.jpg (It's kinda more like a cloak, to be completely honest), if any of you know how to make a text link somewhere, please let me know!
> 
> Again, I'm sorry for taking so long. I don't know if I will update regularly, but I'll try? At least?
> 
> This chapter is a bit shorter then usual, next one will probably be a bit longer!
> 
> So yeah, hope you liked this chapter and as always: I'm open for any and all comments on my work(s)!
> 
> Keep the love coming ^^


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